


A Stellar Outcome

by ivefoundmygoldfish (melonpanparade)



Series: Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:29:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1989846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonpanparade/pseuds/ivefoundmygoldfish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people believe that an unexpected clandestine meeting heralded by small rocks thudding against the window frame is romantic, but not Mycroft Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stellar Outcome

**Author's Note:**

> Probably takes place in their early twenties.
> 
> Written for Sherlock Rare Pair Bingo Round 2 (prompt: midnight).

Some people believe that an unexpected clandestine meeting heralded by small rocks thudding against the window frame is romantic, but not Mycroft Holmes.

“Gregory, what do you think you’re doing?” Mycroft hisses. “It’s past midnight, for goodness’ sake!”

That, and, he can't quite comprehend why his best friend—first and only friend, if he's honest with himself—is outside his window, all smiles and excitement and a handful of small rocks in his hand.

“Trying to get your attention. Thought that was rather obvious,” Gregory grins. His smile is bright and cheeky, and moonshine dances across his face. Like a pixie coming out during a warm summer night for a bit of fun, Mycroft muses. “Your light was on, so it’s not like you were sleeping anyway.”

“I was preparing for bed.” Gregory’s smile grows wider at the sullen tone his voice has taken on. Ah, yes. Definitely pixie-like, what with that charm and boyish smile. Not lacking in stature, however; just a few inches short of his own height, and stockier. A most aesthetically pleasing physique... Mycroft squeezes his eyes shut, trying to channel his focus on whatever else Gregory has said, then furrows his brows. “You sound like Sherlock.”

“That’s a shame. I was aiming for Romeo.”

“I’ll not be your Juliet, if that is what you are implying,” Mycroft sniffs. His palms are clammy and his chest feels tight.

“Good. I was hoping you’d be my Mycroft.”

Mycroft opens his mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. After all, how can he utter his affection as easily as Gregory, even though all he wants to say is a simple _I’m already yours_?

“Oh, stop thinking and just come down here already,” Gregory calls out.

“Fine, but only because Sherlock will wake up in no time if you continue speaking as loudly as you are now.” And thank heavens that his parents’ room is on the opposite side of the house, or else they’d have woken up by now, too.

“Yes, yes. I believe you. Don’t forget to bring a coat. There’s a bit of a breeze tonight.”

 

* * *

 

Gregory leads him to a small clearing, not too far from the house. “While you were busy the other day, Sherlock and I found this clearing. I figured it’d be a nice place for a bit of stargazing.” Gregory shrugs off his coat to lay it out on the grass. They both lie down on it—Gregory first, and then Mycroft at Gregory’s insistence.

“Gregory, you’ll drive my coat to an early demise if you continue tugging on it with such force,” Mycroft chides, before taking off his coat to provide Gregory with a makeshift blanket. “And now you're shivering. Here.”

"That won't do." Gregory edges closer, adjusting the coat until it's draped over both of them.

Mycroft releases a shaky breath. Gregory is close. Very close. And his fingers are itching to reach out and just... touch. With a substantial amount of willpower and a brief pang of regret, Mycroft resists. Instead, he asks, "How did you discover my interest in the celestial bodies?"

“Well..." Mycroft thinks he hears a sharp intake of breath, but it's hard to be sure about anything when the object of his affections is facing him all of a sudden, peering at him with dark, twinkling eyes." I’ve got quite the stellar body myself, and I reckon you’re _very_ interested in that.”

He's tempted to hide, to run, but the flash of uncertainty before Gregory's cheeky grin brightens his face encourages him to throw caution to the wind and confirm Gregory's suspicions. And besides, earlier, he wanted to touch—now he has the perfect excuse and the confidence to do it.

“Stellar body? I-I believe I may need to verify that.” Mycroft reaches out, tentatively brushing his hand over the cotton of Gregory's shirt. His finger makes contact with the exposed skin where the shirt has ridden up, eliciting a startled yelp.

“Bloody hell, Mycroft, that’s cold!” Gregory swats his hand away with a gasp-turned-laugh. “If you really must know, Sherlock told me, actually,” he says, once he regains his breath. "That day you were cooped up doing something or other so I was spending time with Sherlock instead. I was up and about following every order for his nibs’ experiments, but it was worth it, because he told me you used to show him the wonders of the night sky when he couldn’t sleep.”

“Ah, I was under the impression that he had deleted those memories.”

“Apparently not. And I’m glad he didn’t,” Gregory murmurs, finding Mycroft’s hand and clasping it in his own. “Tell me something, anything.”

"I... I find myself sufficiently distracted to the point where my ability to study the celestial bodies is severely hindered," Mycroft replies. He's already thrown caution to the wind, so what are a few more truthful responses? 

"I meant about the stars, but that's okay too." This time, Mycroft is sure of the sharp intake of breath that gives away Gregory's nerves. "I hadn't expected for this to happen tonight; honestly, I just wanted to see the stars with my best mate, but I can't say I'm disappointed with how it turned out." The grip on Mycroft's hand tightens, and Gregory stares at Mycroft earnestly, waiting for a response.

Mycroft hadn't expected anything to happen at all, starting from his own feelings for Gregory, to actually acting on them. If it hadn't been for Gregory... Mycroft is overwhelmed. He presses his forehead to Gregory's in the hopes that he will understand, that maybe the feelings and explanations welling up from deep inside of him will be conveyed.

Gregory sighs happily, shuffling until he’s snug against Mycroft’s side with his head tucked under Mycroft’s chin. He mumbles into Mycroft's shirt, "I guess this means we can do this again?"

Mycroft hums in affirmation. "As long as you cease your attacks on my window frame."

"But that was my favourite part."

Mycroft shivers when Gregory's arm snakes around his side, hand rubbing small circles on his back. It's a pleasant feeling.

"Well, I suppose I can be convinced otherwise."

"Perfect."


End file.
